


Living the Dream

by innocence4days



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: (sort of), Choking, Getting Together, I don't know how to tag on ao3 anymore tbh, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Touring, mentions of past substance abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-27 11:23:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21391336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/innocence4days/pseuds/innocence4days
Summary: "He wears chipped black nail polish on his fingernails rather than expensive watches on his wrist, he rides a shitty van from venue to venue and is way too acquainted with the scent of four-day-old sweat to be starring in cologne commercials. Frank loves every second of it. "ORFrank introspects a lot.
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way
Comments: 8
Kudos: 69





	Living the Dream

**Author's Note:**

> What can I say? The comeback brought all my Frerard feels back. 
> 
> This really is more practice than anything and I may delete it later, tbh. I haven't written full-blown fanfic in a while so I wanted to write something stream-of-conscious-y and with a POV to sort of grasp at a character. Anyway. Enjoy!

It's a goddamn dream, Frank thinks, living the life he is living. When he was a kid he dreamed of being a rockstar with a lavish and glamorous life, flying first class to the next venue and seeing his face plastered on the front covers of magazines with pretty girls at his side. He wears chipped black nail polish on his fingernails rather than expensive watches on his wrist, he rides a shitty van from venue to venue and is way too acquainted with the scent of four-day-old sweat to be starring in cologne commercials. Frank loves every second of it. 

There's nothing like the loud buzzing of the crowd that shakes the stage beneath his feet before they even start playing. There's nothing like the feeling of bright lights shining on him, the momentary blindness giving away to flashbacks of the beginning when their gigs were small and there was doubt looming over him. There's nothing like the sound of their music in his ear, the product of their hard work sang back to them by the thousands in the crowd. There's nothing like looking around the stage and seeing his found family putting their heart and soul into their performance. There's nothing like the feeling that overcomes Frank when the music takes over and brings out something in him that compels him to walk over to the center front and stand in Gerard's personal space, the thrill of the reaction he gets from the crowd when he presses in closely, obscenely, when his tongue tastes the sweat glittering on Gerard's skin and the makeup that he'd smudged on before the show. 

One of those things is not quite like the others, and Frank is ready to admit any day that hey, maybe the adrenaline gets him a little horny and Gerard has to be one of the most attractive and engaging people he has ever met. Particularly while prancing around on stage with a sense of confidence that he exhibits nowhere else, giving himself into the music as hard as Frank does to the point that he doesn't mind it when Frank gets all up in his space and does weird shit. To the point, even, that Gerard initiates it too. From suggestive looks and winks to filthy touches, they've done it all. It's fun, Frank thinks, and Gerard must think the same because they just keep doing it without actually talking about it.

As much as he loves their beaten up, smelly, old van, Frank gets really excited whenever they get to spend a night in a shitty hotel with a functioning shower. And while he loves talking smack to the others about the advantages of being short when it comes to sleeping on a bunk, there's nothing like spreading out on an actual bed (regardless of what nasty stuff might be ingrained in the sheets and mattress, depending on the grade of the hotel in question). Frank goes to the nearest convenience store to grab some toiletries for himself because 1) he's well aware of how much shower gel and shampoo he uses up when he gets the chance and 2) there's nothing like the response he gets from Bob when he goes into the bathroom to find a Minion bottle of shower gel and Hello Kitty shampoo. 

Frank is smelling like vanilla and bubble gum when he leaves the room to grab some coffee from the place across the street, finding Gerard at the entrance of the hotel smoking a cigarette. He has showered too, by the looks of it. The tobacco only partly masks the scent of artificial florals from the complimentary toiletries. Frank sort of likes the mix. He ends up bumming a cigarette from Gerard and the two of them head on over to the coffee place once they're done. They stick around until the place is closing and the barista is throwing them dirty looks, making plans for the next day and deciding to do laundry - a task well overdue for the two of them. 

Come the next evening, they are on stage again and somehow Gerard's crotch rubbing on Frank's face and it is normal. 

Their two-night vacation in a hotel ends and Frank misses the shitty bed when he finds himself awake in the middle of the night, unable to find comfort in his bunk. He sighs quietly to himself; Bob is clearly asleep across from him, Ray is snoring, and Frank can't tell if Mikey's awake or if he fell asleep with his earbuds blaring music again. He peeks around through the cracks of the black curtains and can't make out whether Gerard is even in his bunk. Frank gets the answer to that question when he stands up to get a drink of water and finds Gerard sprawled on the ratty couch, bouncing his leg and drumming his fingers. 

"Can't sleep?" Gerard questions, sitting up to look at Frank properly and to open up some space on the couch, should the other want to join him. 

Frank responds with a noncommittal hum and drinks his water before sitting down next to Gerard and slumping against his side, defeated. He gets a quiet little chuckle from Gerard in response and it is comforting; Frank feels like he'd sooner fall asleep here than in his bunk. It's after a while of sitting like this and talking about nothing in particular (Gerard's mind is a hauntingly beautiful place, and Frank loves to hear him rambling about his undeterred thoughts) that Frank gets a reality check that has him stiffening up just a little where he sits. That rawness he feels on stage is missing, but his overwhelming attraction towards Gerard is there nonetheless and it makes Frank reevaluate every thought he's had about the man in the most recent months. It brings him to a little bit of a panic, and yet he doesn't make himself move away from the warmth at his side and the soothing sound of Gerard's voice as he rambles on about his ideas. 

In the end, Frank does fall asleep. In the morning, Gerard doesn't seem offended by the fact that his friend dozed off in the middle of one of his passionate debates with himself, and tells Frank that he's glad he was able to get some rest. Frank feels that overwhelming attraction again and takes it upon himself to be the first to get to the coffee pot; he brings Gerard a cup as a thank you. 

Being the observant guy he is, Ray asks Frank if there is something wrong. If Frank had to wager a bet, he would guess the question comes from how unusually quiet Frank has been during the day; with that thought in mind, he grumbles something about having a hard time sleeping which had caused him a headache. In about half an hour Ray is at Frank's side again offering him orange juice and painkillers, and Frank thinks that, besides the mindblowing realization that he might have feelings for one of his best friends, he really is a lucky guy. 

No matter how uncomfortable he is that night, Frank sticks to his bunk. He's unable to sleep still; without the constant sound of his bandmates talking, laughing, playing or arguing over stupid shit, Frank can't get distracted from the thoughts plaguing his mind. He won't stop thinking about every single sexually charged exchanged he's had with Gerard on stage or about every quiet moment he's shared with him when it's just the two of them and the conversation flows easily. He thinks about how content he felt last night with his weight resting on Gerard's side and so many other times when the touching had been unnecessary but comforting. This introspection has cost him a good couple of hours of sleep so far, thinking of all the highs and all the lows - the heartbreaking feeling in his chest whenever Gerard hit rock bottom again, the soul tearing fear he felt for him when the substance abuse would get out of hand. The gut-wrenching thought of 'I can't go on without him' whenever that fear got a little too real. 

He barely sleeps. They play a show the next day and Frank is oddly sticking to his side of the stage - thrashing around still because it wouldn't be him if he didn't get a few bruises out of it, but carefully staying on his lane. He thinks he sees Gerard staring curiously as they make it backstage, but Frank has a pretty good excuse plastered right on his face in the form of dark circles and makes it back to the van and into his bunk in record time. The exhaustion of last night's insomnia paired with the show finally lull him to sleep. 

Mikey is the one to ask what's going on in the next day when Frank wakes up at some point past noon looking and feeling hungover for no good reason. He mumbles something that is supposed to convince Mikey that he's fine and goes straight to the coffee maker. Mikey gives him a studying look but doesn't say anything else, for which Frank is grateful. He retires back to his bunk just before Gerard and Bob return to the van with a plastic bags filled with what they call their 'gas station' haul, coffee in hand and curtain closed, in his own world for all of thirty seconds.

"Knock, knock." It's Gerard. Frank almost wants to pretend to be asleep. 

"Who's there?" Frank asks, deadpan, fully aware that a joke was not the intent of this interaction. 

Gerard draws the curtain to dramatically roll his eyes and Frank has to giggle. "Brought you presents, dickhead."

The bag is emptied onto lame excuse of a mattress, lollipops and other miscellaneous candies in colorful wrappers making Frank grin. The longer he inspects the 'haul' on his bed the more obvious it becomes that Gerard has taken notice of which candy Frank likes best. That in itself brings back that feeling in Frank's chest, that attraction, that magnetism that has his body craving Gerard's touch. He nearly spills some of his coffee in the process, but he can't fight the urge to lean in close and press a kiss to Gerard's cheek. Frank receives a smile in return. 

"I figured it might cheer you up. It feels like you've been a bit... Off. You good?"

Frank pauses at the question before he nods, the hesitation itself probably not too good of an argument on how good he is. Gerard hesitates as well before he reciprocates the nod and decides that he will stretch up a bit to give Frank's cheek a kiss of his own. He's about to leave, which Frank would have been thankful for on account of yet another incoming introspection (as well as the pink shade tinting his cheeks), but stops in the middle of closing the curtain again. 

"I think you know you're not fooling anyone. Frank Iero being this quiet can only be a sign of trouble." Gerard smirks, though the concern is obvious in the tone of his voice and the darting of his eyes. "Whatever you need, let me know." After that, he finally closes the curtain again and leaves. 

Frank finishes his coffee and fills the empty mug with candy wrappers until it can hold no more. It's then that he finally leaves his bunk in an attempt to feel human again, though the hours of having nothing but candy and coffee for sustenance sort make it impossible. Bob sees the look on his face, sees the empty candy wrappers being dropped into the trash can, and suddenly there is a mug of green tea sitting in front of Frank and a promise that it will make him feel better. It does. 

Their next show Gerard is having none of Frank's 'stay in your lane' bullshit. He makes his way over to Frank in the very beginning of Prison, hand reaching around him to suggestively touch Frank's chest while he starts to sing, moving up until his warm fingers are just circling Frank's neck, just barely squeezing, pressing up against his back all the while. Gerard is gone too soon after that, and Frank thanks the heavens for his muscle memory because there is absolutely no way he could ever go on with this show without messing up if it weren't for that. His fingers strum along while he stares at Gerard with fire in his gaze and heat in his gut. Frank is so, so far gone. Too far gone. 

The whole set is torture for Frank after that. He makes a split-second decision that if this is Gerard's plan then he won't go against it. The occasional charged interaction returns and Frank would try to blame it on the music yet again - he would, except that they are no longer playing on stage and that same urge to be close, to touch Gerard, to be touched is still so vivid and difficult to ignore that Frank isn't sure how to excuse it or even go against it. 

Gerard is damn excited. He tends to be after the shows - he rambles, goes on and on about how good it was, how wonderful the crowd was, complimenting his bandmates for how good they sounded. He doesn't get much of it out this time around, though, because even that is stupidly endearing to Frank. This man is dripping in sweat and being a complete dork about their show and Frank thinks that the only way he will able be able to resist him is by selling his soul to the devil or something. He's not sure he's ready to owe his life to the ruler of Hell over his crush on Gerard fucking Way so, instead of summoning the lord of the underworld, Frank decides to grab the front of Gerard's shirt and shut him up with a kiss. 

The fact that Gerard doesn't seem to be taken by surprise, in turn, catches Frank off guard. Gerard responds to it quite eagerly, pulls Frank in by the hips, kisses him heatedly like he's been expecting it; as if they do this every time they walk off stage. Frank is but a human and, despite his confusion, he takes the wonderful kiss for what it is until the post-concert tiredness catches up to his lungs and he's forced to pull back. He stares, bewildered as if he had not been the one to clash his lips against Gerard's in the first place, a little bit lost in the smile he's faced with. 

"If I knew that choking you would be your breaking point, I would have done it a long time ago," Gerard says still with that same confidence that he holds on stage and Frank has to wonder if it has something to do with the proof that Gerard has him in the palm of his hand. Yeah, Frank figures he'd be this cocky too if their roles were reversed. 

"You've seen nothing," Frank responds, sounding a little bit breathless like he just can't believe his luck. He's vaguely aware that he's smiling like an idiot and his brain is screaming at him that these are treacherous waters he's venturing into, what with the way he's still figuring out his own feelings without any idea of what's going on in Gerard's own mind. Frank does know one thing - this isn't simply a stage act for either of them. For tonight, he'll take it. 

In the morning there are more bruises on his skin than his usual post-concert ones. He wakes up to the smell of complimentary toiletries, gentle kisses on his back and promises of coffee. He rubs his eyes before rolling over and pinning Gerard to the mattress with his head on the vocalist's chest and begging for five more minutes. Gerard laughs. 

Frank's living a goddam dream. 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments would really be appreciated. I need validation or I'll wither.  
Thanks for reading :)


End file.
